


with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, Canonical Character Death, Character Death Fix, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Conversations, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Snapshots, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: This was my submission for the 2019 IgNoct Big Bang, a true labor of love.Ignis recounts his childhood spent serving Noctis, and the realization that took him nearly twenty years to come to terms with. When it comes to saying “I love you,” the old adage holds true: "actions speak louder than words."My accompanying artist was Nikki, @xarilin_MTC on Twitter! Please support her and check out her work!
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 39
Kudos: 112
Collections: The Ignoct Big Bang 2019





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Sonnet 43" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (How Do I Love Thee?)  
> 
> 
> _How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._  
>  _I love thee to the depth and breadth and heigh_ t  
>  _My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight_  
>  _For the ends of being and ideal grace._  
>  _I love thee to the level of every day's_  
>  _Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light._  
>  _I love thee freely, as men strive for right._  
>  _I love thee purely, as they turn from praise._  
>  _I love thee with the passion put to use_  
>  _In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith._  
>  _I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_  
>  _With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,_  
>  _Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,_  
>  _I shall but love thee better after death._

“You must work very hard and be diligent in your studies. One day, it will be your duty to sit at the right hand of the king. You will help guide him in times of peace, and in times of war.”

The man bounced his son on his knee as they sat on the steps of the Citadel, the white-walled building gleaming in the sunlight. It stood as a beacon of hope to its citizens, a reminder of what was good and just, and a symbol of the gods’ favor.

“That’s what you do, right, papa? Help the king?” The young boy blinked behind rounded glasses, the lenses reflecting his father's sharply angled face. The man nodded, patting the child on the head with a smile before falling silent.

“That’s right, Ignis. And once His Majesty and the queen return from their visit to Tenebrae, you will meet the prince at long last—your life’s purpose.” He watched as his son fidgeted, hands wringing anxiously. It was a habit he would need to break him of, he thought to himself. Eventually, he grew impatient. “Spit it out, son.”

The little boy swung his legs, back and forth, back and forth, eyes on the ground.

“What if—what if I don’t _like_ him? Or Prince Noctis doesn’t like _me_? What if I’m not good enough to be his advisor?”

His father smiled.

“As a Scientia, that isn’t an option. Our family has been serving the Kings of Lucis for centuries. Besides, the prince is only an infant,” he said. Ignis only looked more nervous in light of his father’s answer, and the man laughed, wrapping one arm around the child’s slender frame in a rare show of reassurance.

“If you’re that worried, simply do as I have told you and prove your worth. Everything else will fall into place—you’ll see.”

The boy's gaze panned up the building looming over his shoulder and tried to picture what it would be like to stand in the throne room and give the king advice one day— _him!_

It wasn’t something the six-year-old could wrap his head around, but it seemed like he had no other choice. His fate had been set. All he had to do now was fulfill it.


	2. by sun and candle-light

— **1** —

“Come in, don’t be shy,” the woman said as he poked his head through the open door.

Ignis did as he was told, glancing behind him to where his father sat in the bedroom's antechamber, one leg crossed over the other and phone in hand. The man didn’t glance up from where he was scrolling, leaving his son to his own devices.

Swallowing hard, Ignis took measured steps into the room, pulling his shoulders up and back in a show of courage.

Today was the day he would _finally_ meet the young prince. His _life’s purpose_ as his father repeatedly said, and Ignis’s heart was beating so fast he thought it might jump out of his chest.

The prince’s nanny sat reclined in a large chair beside the overly large four-post bed, an open book splayed across her lap. She lifted one finger to her lips gently.

“He just fell asleep.” Her tone was slightly apologetic, and Ignis nodded fervently, tiptoeing to show he understood. When he reached the edge of the bed, he leaned forward slightly and found a toddler nestled in a mountain of pillows, chest rising and falling softly with his sleepy breaths.

Ignis stared, taking in the soft curves of the prince’s face and his long dark eyelashes. The boy’s hair was disheveled in sleep, dark as night.

“He’s so small,” Ignis whispered. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this.

The woman smiled.

Unable to resist, Ignis reached out, pressing a finger into Noctis’s open hand. The toddler’s fingers curled around it instinctively in his sleep and Ignis felt a flutter of something in his chest that he couldn’t name.

“May I…?”

She nodded encouragingly, and Ignis climbed onto the bed, sitting next to Noctis where he remained fast asleep.

“Hello Prince Noctis, my name is Ignis,” he murmured. “I hope we will be friends.” After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his liege's forehead.

He watched as Noctis's head tossed with a sleepy sigh, the tiniest of smiles curling onto his lips.

— **2** —

Ignis waited in the throne room, fiddling with his tie. He’d already gone to the bathroom—twice—to make sure it was perfectly straight, button-down pressed and belt buckle aligned. It was his first _official_ day, and he had been preparing for it for years.

All of the lessons, training sessions, and long nights studying with tutors boiled down to this moment. At a meager eight years of age, he was finally declared advisor to the Prince of Lucis and would be moving into the Citadel as a royal retainer.

 _Make me proud, son_.

This was House Scientia’s calling, his fate. He wouldn’t fail.

When the large doors boomed open, footsteps clicking on the marbled floor, Ignis stood at attention as he had been taught, fist over heart. His father behind him did the same.

King Regis entered first, trailed closely by Clarus Amicitia, and flanked by two Kingsglaive. In the space they created in their wake, Ignis could barely see a small body moving quickly to stay close to the king.

He tried to smile to ease his nerves, but Ignis was afraid it came out more like a grimace and opted for a neutral expression instead. When the King of Lucis came to a halt in front of them, Ignis and his father bent at the waist into deep bows.

“Your Majesty,” his father greeted. Ignis glanced over his glasses to see the king smile. The words exchanged between the adults were lost as he focused on the half-hidden form at Regis’s side, Prince Noctis peering around the king’s leg to blink at Ignis.

He had been watching Noctis from afar all his life, learning everything there was to know about the heir apparent, but it had been some time since they had been face-to-face. Ignis noted how Noctis had grown—all limbs, slender and small in stature—with curious eyes and an unsure smile.

Ignis’s father nudged him, breaking him out of his reverie. He found King Regis was bending down to meet his eye, and suddenly he was fidgeting, unsure if he had missed something important in the conversation. Ignis clasped his hands as an afterthought, kicking himself for being anything less than perfectly composed in the king's presence. 

“Ignis, please take good care of my son,” King Regis bade.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he answered instinctively, then paused as the king stepped aside, letting Noctis come forward.

Noctis took Ignis’s hands in his without hesitation, and much to his surprise, their trembling ceased instantly. When Noctis smiled, Ignis’s anxiety melted away, heart thudding comfortably against his ribcage.

“Please take good care of me, Iggy,” Noctis echoed his father.

How could someone so small radiate so much warmth? Ignis found that his smile came naturally as his fears were put to rest.

“Your Highness, it would be my honor.”

— **3** —

The funeral was a small, private affair. With no bodies to bury, it was more of a formality than anything. Ignis stood at the front of those assembled, feeling insignificant and out of place as the only child among the group of adults. His uncle stood to his left, one hand resting on Ignis's shoulder, but Ignis barely registered its presence, body numb to the words that washed over him and the biting chill in the air.

His Majesty spoke, the intonation of the eloquent eulogy muffled by the bitter breeze that whipped through the graveyard.

A freak boating accident at sea, lost somewhere between Accordo and Lucis. There had been no survivors. Ignis' parents, unfortunately, had been among the casualties.

Ignis noted the grayscale of the dead landscape, dark suits of the funeral-goers blending in with headstones and wiry trees that had lost their leaves weaks ago. He vaguely registered that his gloveless hands hurt, pale white and bloodless from the freezing temperatures, but he allowed them to hang at his side instead of shoving them into his pockets. Feeling _anything_ —even this—was better than the horrible emptiness that ached inside him.

When King Regis finished his speech, men and women filed past the grave marker than had been erected on the Scientia family plot, the marble unusually bright against the muted background. They placed white flowers on top as they passed. Calla lilies, or so Ignis had been told. There were murmured condolences as people paid their respects, but Ignis didn’t acknowledge any of them. His uncle nodded and said ‘thank you’ while the boy stared at the tips of his pointed leather shoes.

When the somber parade finally came to an end, lgnis and his uncle stood side-by-side, the silence crashing down on them. Ignis felt his chest pull tight as his mind drifted back to the most memory of his parents, and the realization that he would never see them again finally hit him like a punch in the gut.

 _I leave it to you, Ignis_.

His father’s last words before they had set sail—spoken in reference to Ignis's duty to Prince Noctis—Ignis’s duty to one day serve as the head of his council. It was the Scientia family _honor_ to serve the royal family, his parents had said. His fate, his destiny. They had prided themselves in their longstanding value to the Caelums.

But Ignis’s parents weren’t _here_ , and the ten-year-old boy thought nothing of duty and honor—only that he felt horribly, terribly alone.

* * *

It was late when Ignis got to his new room in the Citadel. An adjacent suite attached to his uncle’s; it was where he would live going forward. He hadn’t gone back to his parents’ apartments. His uncle had offered to gather his things throughout the week, but for now, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide under the covers.

The room was plain as it had not been used yet, a four-post bed, dresser, and side table the only furniture. Ignis kicked off his shoes at the door and closed it behind him, turning off the light before crawling onto the mattress.

Despite his exhaustion, Ignis knew he wouldn't sleep, and he stared up at the ceiling in the dark as a sense of dread crept into his heart and squeezed violently. It was sure to be a long night.

When his door creaked open, Ignis assumed it was his uncle checking on him, but through the sliver of light pouring into the room he was surprised to find a child-sized shadow.

“Iggy?” the tiny voice sounded scared and unsure. Ignis sat up in alarm, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table.

“Your Highness? What are you doing here?”

The last thing Ignis wanted was for Noctis to see his weakness, but he was already padding further into the bedroom, and Ignis struggled to put on a mask of strength and composure.

“I heard…something bad happened.”

Ignis managed to flip on the table lamp and the room was flooded with a warm glow. Noctis’s gray-blue eyes blinked up at him from the bedside.

The prince was wearing a pair of loose silk pajamas that draped over his small frame. He climbed onto the bed uninvited, causing Ignis to sigh in dismay. He was secretly thankful that he had resisted the urge to cry when he was finally alone. _That_ would have been embarrassing for Noctis to see.

“It’s all right. There was an accident,” Ignis explained. He bit back the urge to say more. Noctis didn’t need to know the details.

“Your parents died, right?”

Ignis inhaled sharply. Of course, the prince was young, but he wasn’t stupid. Even so, Ignis hadn’t been prepared to discuss the topic with such frankness. Not with himself, and surely not with Noctis. 

There was an awkward silence as Noctis fiddled with a loose string on the comforter. He glanced up at Ignis from beneath downturned eyelashes, frowning.

“My mom died when I was really young.”

Ignis stared, belatedly realizing his mouth was hanging open. He shut it with a _click_. Of course, he knew the queen had died in Noctis’s youth, but he had never mentioned it before now—no one had.

“…I can stay with you—if you want. It’s not good to be alone after,” Noctis said.

Something in Ignis broke then, and his throat constricted, tears stinging the corners of his vision. Noctis smiled, hand reaching out to touch his arm.

“It’s okay. We have each other.”

Ignis bowed his head, a sob escaping him. Once he started to cry, he found he couldn’t stop, and his cries pierced the darkness, his entire body shaking with them. Everything he had been holding back floated to the surface—the pressure of his station, the agony of his parents' deaths, his uncertainty about the future. Ignis let it all go now, and Noctis patted his back reassuringly until the cries turned to sniffles, demonstrating patience beyond his eight years.

“I—I’m sorry, Your Highness, I shouldn’t—” Ignis blubbered, wiping his face with the backs of his hands.

_I should be strong for you. You shouldn't have to comfort me._

“It’s Noctis,” he insisted. “We’re family, right?”

Ignis bit back a correction, nodding instead. It was easy to give in to Noctis, especially now. He wanted to give in. He _wanted_ to be reassured.

Noctis’s smile was small, but it carried a mighty power. His hands were clasped in-between his crossed legs, hair askew, eyes shining hopefully as he stared back at Ignis.

Ignis would do anything for that smile. 

_Mother, father, I do not know if I am cut out for this…I will do my best to make you proud._

“Noctis," he tested the name, surprised how easily it rolled off his tongue. "I’d love the honor of your company,” Ignis murmured.

Noctis beamed, immediately flopping onto the pillow beside Ignis as he reached to shut off the light.

“You won’t tell my dad I snuck out of my room, will you?” Noctis asked after a brief pause.

Ignis chuckled, eyes sliding shut as his body relaxed and grew heavy. The emptiness in his chest had been replaced with a bittersweet relief.

“It will be our little secret,” Ignis agreed.

For one night, he would allow himself this simple comfort.

“Thanks, Iggy.” 

Noctis yawned, snuggling into Ignis's side. Ignis found the body heat soothing and began to drift off, shadows dancing behind his eyelids.

_No, Noctis—thank you._

— **4** —

“His Highness will see you now,” the woman in the starch white uniform announced. Ignis was out of his chair before she had finished the sentence, rushing into the Noctis's room. When his eyes fell on their intended target, he felt his heart jump, lodging itself in his throat like shards of glass.

Noctis was looking away from him, out the window at the darkening sky. He was slumped back in a wheelchair, and it made him look even smaller than usual. Ignis struggled to breathe.

“Your Highness.” It was barely a whisper. Noctis didn’t turn.

Ignis crept into the room. Nowhere in his training had it been mentioned what to do if the prince was injured in a daemon attack. It was something a child his age should never have been forced to endure. Ignis floundered now, trying to find the appropriate words to comfort him.

_I should have been there. I should have protected you._

When he finally came to stand at Noctis’s side, he looked at his downturned face, gray eyes unblinking and expressionless. The light had gone out of them.

The pain in Ignis' chest worsened.

“Noctis?” Ignis’s voice remained a whisper.

Ignis had learned more than any of his peers—how to cook, clean, and sew—and he knew all the countries and their capitals, along with the names of their leaders and councilmembers. He’d begun training in martial arts and weaponry alongside Gladiolus Amicitia, the future King’s Shield, and held himself with poise in front of royal advisors old enough to be his grandfather.

And yet, he had no idea what to do for Noctis now. There was no 'How-To' for pain and loss. No words that could take away the pain. With no knowledge to stand on, Ignis leaned into what felt right at the moment.

Moving as if in slow motion, Ignis reached out and took Noctis’s hand. The prince's head jerked up, looking at him as if just now noticing his presence. There were tears in Noctis's eyes.

Ignis squeezed, not trusting himself to speak.

Noctis squeezed back.

— **5** —

“I _can’t_ ,” Noctis huffed, throwing the crutches down with a _clatter_. Ignis arched an eyebrow from where he sat on a bench in the Citadel’s garden.

“Try, Your Highness.”

“I’ve _been_ trying, Iggy.”

Noctis leaned against a statue of one of the Lucian kings, its face weather-worn and unidentifiable, and Ignis held in the reprimand on the tip of his tongue. A sheen of sweat was visible beneath Noctis's hairline, evidence of his efforts. He had been attempting to walk for most of the morning, Ignis leading him patiently through the therapeutic exercises prescribed by his doctor, and had quickly grown frustrated after several painful failed attempts.

Ignis stood, walking over.

“Try again,” he urged.

“What do I get out of it?” Noctis reluctantly bent down to gather his crutches, a frown marring his delicate features. Ignis shook his head, one hand grabbing Noctis's elbow to steady him.

“My undying love and affection?” Ignis adjusted his glasses coyly.

“You’re _supposed_ to give me that, you’re my advisor!” Noctis whined, causing Ignis’s lips to twitch up as he fought the urge to laugh.

“Then, perhaps…a pastry?”

Ignis had been recently getting more into cooking for himself and knew just the recipe he wanted to try. It was a good of an excuse as any. Whatever Noctis needed, Ignis would provide, even if it was external motivation in the form of sweets. 

“Yeah, okay,” Noctis agreed sullenly. 

The prince took a hesitant step, legs shaking, and Ignis gripped him tight by the arm.

“I won’t let you fall,” he promised.

— **6** —

“O—ma—gawd—!” 

Noctis moaned through a mouthful of fluffy dough, sighing happily as he threw himself back on the couch in Ignis’s study. Ignis watched, mortified as he spoke around the dessert in his mouth, spilling crumbs in his lap while reaching for a second pastry. Noctis swallowed the dangerously large bite in one gulp. “This is _awesome_.”

Despite the mess, Ignis couldn't help but be pleased. He hadn't seen Noctis smile this much since the accident that had nearly cost him his life _._ The extra time Ignis would spend vacuuming was more than worth it to see him happy again, even if only for a moment. Seeing the prince enjoying what he had made dug up memories he thought he had long forgotten, afternoons spent in a kitchen with his mother, peering into a well-lit oven as he watched cookies and cakes take shape.

They were fond memories, and now he could count this one among them.

“How do you do it? Is it magic?” Noctis was licking his fingers. Ignis watched in dismay as Noctis rubbed the excess grease onto his t-shirt.

“Butter, mostly.” Although, his mother always said there was one secret ingredient that couldn’t be bought. Ignis flushed at the thought.

“You’re amazing, Iggy.”

“Oh, come now, it’s nothing special,” Ignis deflected, but he found himself smiling. 

“No, _really_.” Noctis sat up straight, tousled hair falling into his eyes. Ignis made a mental note to make him an appointment with the hairdresser. “You’re good. Better than good.” There was silence as Noctis averted his gaze, squirming. He didn't always know how to put his feelings into words, but Ignis understood him all the same.

The evidence was there in the number of pastries he had piled high on his small plate.

Ignis smiled easily. It was happening more and more nowadays, his duty blending into something else that Ignis still couldn’t quite put a name to. 

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“It’s Noctis, remember?” Lightning flashed in Noctis' storm-cloud eyes, and Ignis chuckled, coming to sit beside him and snag a dessert for himself.

“I remember, Noctis.”

 _Friendship_. The answer to his dilemma struck him as they both bit into the pastries and exhaled in unified satisfaction, laughing at their shared reaction. Noctis wasn’t _just_ his prince and future king—he was his friend, too. Ignis wondered at the realization that had taken him three years to accept, staring down at the half-eaten sweet as he considered the implications.

 _What would my father think?_ Ignis felt his throat constrict, appetite vanishing abruptly.

“Hey Ignis?”

The question interrupted his internal debate, and he was glad for the distraction.

“Yes, Noctis?”

“Do you think you could make more food like this?”

Without hesitation, Ignis reached to wipe away some of the pastry filling that now stuck to the edge of Noctis’s mouth. He continued to stare up at Ignis, unfazed.

“Of course." He tabled his concerns for another day, taking another bite.

“See? I _told_ you it’s awesome."

They continued eating in companionable silence. 

— **7** —

“Do I _have_ to go to bed?”

Ignis threw his hands up in mild exasperation, staring down the nine-year-old prince like he was a coeurl that might electrocute him. In reality, Noctis was sitting cross-legged beneath the canopy of his bed and had fixed Ignis with the deepest frown his tiny face could make. If he _had_ been a coeurl, his ears would have been flattened, tail twitching in irritation.

“Your father insisted that while he was away—”

“ _C’mon_ Iggy, just this once! Staying up late isn’t going to hurt me.”

Ignis’s eyebrows drew downwards in dismay, but Noctis continued to look hopeful. It was absolutely infuriating how he could manipulate Ignis with a single look.

“His Majesty’s word—” Ignis protested weakly.

“His Majesty—” Noctis imitated Ignis’s accent (poorly) “—isn’t here.” Ignis took a deep breath to calm the frustration that was building inside him, pinching the bridge of his nose as he counted to five. “Just one more hour! _Please_?”

Placing his hands on his hips, Ignis scanned Noctis again, taking in his large eyes and pursed lips. “… _one_ hour, and not a minute more,” Ignis conceded.

“Yes!” Noctis crowed, tossing a pillow in the air with glee.

“But—” Ignis lifted a finger, and Noctis froze. “Reading only, no video games.” The grin instantly vanished from Noctis’s face, replaced with a scowl.

 _Always full of lightning_ , Ignis mused.

“Aw, _come on_!” 

“Those are my terms.” Ignis stood firm, hoping Noctis would buy his stern look as unyielding, and Noctis huffed.

“Fine.” He kicked his feet, and Ignis had to bite back a snort at how ridiculous Noctis looked—like a child throwing a tantrum. “Read to me then?”

It seemed like Noctis would rather make Ignis suffer with him than admit defeat, but Ignis didn't mind spending more time with Noctis, especially if reading was involved. 

“Certainly. Do you have a story in mind?”

“Surprise me.”

Ignis wandered over to the tall bookshelf in the corner and perused it for something suitable. He settled on a compilation of fairy tales, flipping open to a familiar story as he sat on the edge of Noctis's bed, mattress creaking beneath his weight.

Finding his place, he began to read in an even, soothing cadence.

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there lived a prince…”

He continued without pausing, pronunciation clear and succinct. Occasionally, there was the sound of a page-turning— _thwip—_ but it was otherwise quiet as Noctis listened, staring up at the ceiling as Ignis relayed a tale of magic, mystery, and true love.

“…and they lived happily ever after.”

Ignis closed the cover with a _thud_ when he finished and glanced over. The prince was fast asleep.

Ignis smiled.

— **8** —

Ignis watched nervously from where he stood against the wall, the clash of wooden swords seeming to grate more than the usual metal-on-metal he was used to hearing in the training hall. Gladio Amicitia, Noctis’s designated martial arts instructor and future Shield, was at Ignis’s side, shoulders drawn tightly together and jaw set as he observed the sparring match in front of them. On any given day, either of them would have been relieved not to have to train the ten-year-old in combat, as Noctis seemed to loathe any lesson that required significant physical effort.

But today was different.

Today, Marshal Cor Leonis was testing Noctis to see how far he had progressed—a benchmark of sorts. If Noctis did well, he would be allowed to learn the most coveted skill inherent to his bloodline: warping. It was a skill that the Kingsglaive already used as an extension of the king's power, but it did not come easily, even for gifted magic wielders. For Noctis, however, it should have come as naturally as breathing.

The trial was a ritual that Noctis had been reminded constantly of over the past year, usually accompanied by whining and clipped _I know'_ s thrown at Gladio in the middle of their training sessions together.

 _If you know, then act like it!_ Gladio would snap back.

It was strange for Ignis to see Noctis so focused now considering all of his bellyaching, sweat dripping down his face, and wetting the hair on the back of his neck from exertion. He looked even smaller than usual when paired against the famed soldier of legend— _The Immortal_ —and no matter how quickly he darted in and out of reach, the Marshal was always a step ahead, ready to parry or launch his own attack. Every move was meant to test Noctis, and he was responding admirably.

It was a testament to Gladio’s persistence that Noctis was doing as well as he was, although some might have chalked up a large part of it to genetics. Noctis was the future Chosen King, as it were, something that Ignis often forgot between the chronic oversleeping and slacking off. To be gifted with so much, and yet be reluctant to utilize his full potential—it was enough to drive Ignis and Gladio crazy (and often nearly did).

Gladio and Ignis held their breaths and hoped for the best though, and with every passing minute, Ignis’s pride in Noctis grew and he fought to keep his expression neutral. After all, it wasn’t only Noctis’s reputation and prestige that was riding on the outcome of the test, but theirs as well, and it simply wouldn’t do to be seen celebrating before all was said and done.

When the Marshal stepped back suddenly, Noctis paused, small hands gripping the hilt of his sword tight with an exaggerated frown. His back was hunched, every breath labored, and Ignis watched as a small puddle of sweat began to form at his feet. The Marshal observed Noctis without giving away any emotion, holding his sword aloft. Ignis exhaled slowly, pulse jumping in his veins in anticipation of what was to come.

There was no warning when the Marshal resumed his assault, faster and more vicious this time, and Noctis nearly fell head-over-heels as he scrambled out of the way of the blade, the _thwack_ of the weapon as it dug into the hardwood enough to make Ignis and Gladio wince. Noctis was quicker than he looked though, and he continued to narrowly evade the Marshal's attacks until he backed himself into a corner.

Ignis dug his fingers into his palms until they hurt as he tracked the Marshal’s movement, chest burning from how long he had been holding his breath. He wanted to close his eyes—or yell out encouragement—but he did neither, staring in subdued horror as the practice sword made an arc through the air in Noctis's direction. There would be no escaping it this time, not unless the Marshal showed mercy.

A cry rang out, and there was a flash—a bright flickering of something foreign and beautiful—crystalline, azure _blue_.

Ignis blinked, finding Noctis behind the Marshal now, but on his hands and knees, wheezing as his opponent made a slow turn towards him.

The silence was deafening, everyone awaiting the verdict.

When the Marshal smiled, both Ignis and Gladio relaxed. Unknowingly, they had both taken several steps forward, bodies reacting on instinct to Noctis’s cry. They exhaled when the Marshal sheathed his wooden sword at his belt, extending a hand to the prince.

Gladio chuckled when Noctis stared at it with suspicion, refusing to take it at first. The Marshal was patient, however, and held it out until Noctis finally accepted it, pulling him to his feet with ease.

“Well done, Your Highness,” the Marshal said.

It was high praise, and Ignis took a deep inhale, lightheaded from the stress packed into the last several minutes.

“I did okay?” Noctis questioned tentatively. He was trying not to sound too interested in the answer. Ignis forcibly unfurled his clenched fists and rolled his shoulders when the Marshal gave a nod, and he could see Gladio doing the same out of his periphery. _At least I’m not the only one_ , he thought.

“Who taught you to warp?”

Noctis ducked his head, suddenly sheepish.

Ignis had to admit, Noctis’s use of the skill had surprised him, but if the Marshal was surprised, he did a much better job of hiding it. Despite all the time Ignis spent at Noctis’s side, he had never seen signs of his ability to warp, and it made Ignis wonder what else the prince kept secret from him. A small gnawing in Ignis's gut made him shift uncomfortably. Unsure what to make of it, he crossed his arms over his chest and listened, shoving his personal feelings aside to be dealt with later.

“Nobody taught me,” Noctis admitted. “I just…do it.” The Marshal’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly, but he didn’t comment.

“Well then, we will begin your formal training immediately.”

“Immediately?” Noctis sounded reluctant, and this time Gladio full-on laughed, earning a side-eyed-glare from the prince.

“Well, not right _now_ , but tomorrow, perhaps,” the Marshal laughed. “Your father will be pleased to hear you’ve been progressing in your studies. Good work.” Noctis went quiet. “Gladio, Ignis, you may resume your duties now. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course, Marshal,” they echoed, bowing as was custom. Cor Leonis inclined his head slightly before leaving the room, a strange emptiness remaining in his wake. With the leader of His Majesty’s military gone, Ignis and Gladio both approached where Noctis.

Noctis's gaze fell to Ignis first, and he barely glanced the disappointment that flashed in Noctis’s eyes, briefly wondering at what the prince could be so upset about. By all accounts, he should have been overjoyed.“

"Excellent job, Your Highness. Your father will be proud,” Ignis said.

Noctis frowned openly, shouldering the practice sword that was still in his hand. 

“Yeah, sure.” He kicked at the floor idly. Gladio and Ignis shared a glance, unsure of what to say.

“You know His Majesty would have been here if he could have,” Ignis added. He thought of his own father and how much he had missed the man’s presence at all the important milestones in life, sympathizing.

Without putting much thought into it, Ignis placed a hand on Noctis’s shoulder, suddenly exhausted, yet still basking in the glow of pride he had experienced from watching Noctis succeed. With Noctis, he was learning that sometimes less was more.

“What you did was impressive,” Ignis pressed.

Noctis’s eyes lifted to meet his gaze.

“...it _was_ pretty cool, huh?” Noctis’s question was innocently hopeful, and Ignis felt his own spirits lift.

Gladio scoffed. “Beginner’s luck,” he said teasingly.

Noctis ignored him, eyes still on Ignis.

“Thanks, Iggy.” Noctis smiled, hugging him without warning, and Ignis blinked, instinctively returning the gesture.

Gladio crossed his arms. “You better prepare yourself, kid. Tomorrow the _real_ training starts."

Ignis patted Noctis’s head, holding him in their embrace a little more firmly— _protectively_.

“Tomorrow can wait,” Ignis murmured as he pulled back. When he looked into Noctis's eyes, there were no storm clouds—only sunshine—and Ignis’s heart was a bird, riding on the breeze of their clear skies.

— **9** —

Ignis ran through the courtyard frantically, coming to a stuttered stop beside the fountain, head on a swivel. He didn’t take the time to fix his glasses, which had slid to te tip of his nose in his haste.

“Noctis!” he shouted as his hands cupped around his mouth, eyes darting left and right for any sign of the prince. “You are _eleven_ years old, way past the age of playing these games!” he growled, allowing his irritation to show before the stone statues and carefully manicured trees in the Citadel’s garden.

That’s when he heard it—the telltale _woosh_ he had come to expect. Turning, Ignis gasped as something hit him firmly in the chest, nearly knocking him off his feet. He clung to the body that had collided with his own, anger temporarily outweighing relief as he glared down at Noctis.

With his arms still around Ignis, he smirked back coyly, afterimages of blue in his wake from his warp.

 _He’s getting too good at that,_ Ignis thought in passing.

“I’ve been looking for you for nearly an hour! What do you have to say for yourself?” Ignis demanded, unknowingly clinging to Noctis as his anxiety receded to its baseline.

“You needed a break. You’ve been working too hard,” Noctis said simply as if it were the only acceptable answer. Never mind the fact he had nearly given Ignis yet another heart attack for disappearing unannounced, sending the guard into a frenzy. King Regis wouldn’t be pleased to learn it had been a game.

The sound that came out of Ignis’s mouth could hardly be considered words, and Noctis laughed without restraint, the sound echoing off the cobblestones to weave itself between rays of sun streaming through the trees.


	3. as men strive for right

— **10** —

It was a risk.

Ignis had become accustomed to taking more of them when it came to Noctis. He was in that awkward in-between stage—not quite a child anymore, and _definitely_ not a man. With adolescence came a new set of challenges, each with their own unpredictable outcomes, but Ignis was not averse to being challenged—or so he had thought.

When it came time to actually deliver Noctis's birthday present in person, Ignis stalled outside of his room, doors that he was used to opening without invitation suddenly more daunting than ever before.

 _What if he doesn’t like it?_ The idea had seemed genius in theory, but in practice? He was now questioning every decision he had made.

Ignis hated how his fingers twitched, palms sweating as he let them rest on the ornate handles.

 _Now or never_ , he decided, and inhaling deeply, pushed the doors open with more force than intended. The resulting _slam_ made a dark head of hair pop over the back of a couch in the seating area Noctis had converted into his gaming station.

Ignis tried to look like his usual calm and collected self as Noctis paused whatever he was playing and stood, half-dressed for the formal dinner his father was hosting in his honor. Ignis had planned to teach him how to put on a tie himself—after all, he was thirteen now. It was way past time he learned.

 _It looks better when you do it_ , Noctis kept insisting.

“What’s up, Iggy?”

Ignis tried to remember the speech he had composed hours before and came up blank. 

“I have a present for you,” he blurted, keeping his hand from automatically coming up to touch his glasses—a nervous tic he hadn’t yet gotten rid of.

“Oh?” Noctis’s eyebrows rose as if to say, _what is it?_

Forgoing his usual eloquence and aplomb, Ignis nodded. “Close your eyes.”

Noctis chuckled, but obeyed, hands slapping over his face for good measure. It took Ignis a full five seconds to move, realizing he now actually had to _give_ the prince his present. He gathered it from behind the door, trying not to make too much noise and give away the surprise.

“What is it this time? Socks? A new jacket? Textbooks?” Noctis’s tone was light, joking even, but it made Ignis’s nerves jump unnaturally, stomach flipping as if he were standing on the edge of a tall building looking down. Usually, Ignis would have made a show of giving the gift. It would have been professionally wrapped, with a golden foil card written in his eloquent script, saying something along the lines of: _Happiest of birthdays, Your Highness_ , but not this time.

When Ignis shoved the unwrapped item into the prince’s hands, he jumped back, observing how Noctis’s eyes shot open and went wide in surprise.

“You had mentioned maybe trying something new—getting out of the city,” Ignis began to explain, unable to keep his arms from gesturing, face burning. Noctis was staring down at the fishing rod Ignis had thrust upon him blankly, not reacting like he typically would have. “Remember, several months ago, when we were at the marina and you said—

“—dad took me fishing once, but hasn’t since,” Noctis finished, quieting.

Ignis bit his tongue, watching the careful fluctuations of Noctis’s eyebrows and mouth—up, then down, then up again. It was hard for him to read, and all further explanations were cut down by the single look Noctis gave Ignis—bewilderment, then, ever so slowly, a curling upwards of the mouth, a shimmering _glee_.

“You remembered.”

“Of course.” Ignis tried to pass it off as a no-brainer— _it is my job to pay attention to you, Noctis_ —but there was something else in his smile that said he knew better, a genuine appreciation that Ignis rarely ever saw.

His heart fluttered as if it were a bird about to take flight.

“So, when are we going?”

“Pardon?” Ignis _did_ adjust his glasses then, unable to fight the urge any longer.

“Fishing.” Noctis’s video game was now forgotten as he studied the rod in appreciation.

Placing a hand on his chin, Ignis rifled through the conjoined mental calendar that was his and Noctis’s schedules. “Ah, well, I suppose if your father approves it, this weekend at the earliest.”

“Hell yeah!” Noctis pumped the fist that grasped his fishing pole into the air, grinning.

“Language, highness,” Ignis laughed. The admonishment was instantly forgotten as Noctis slung his gift over one shoulder, his good mood rubbing off on Ignis.

“You’ll come too, won’t you?” Noctis had pulled out his phone and was typing something furiously. Ignis peered over the screen casually as he muttered his response.

“If you wish.”

The text was to ‘Dad,’ and it read: _Guess what? Ignis just got me the BEST PRESENT EVER._

That same flutter in Ignis’s chest intensified.

His smile would linger into the evening, through dinner, and all the way up until the time he laid his head down to sleep.

 _Best present ever_.

— **11** —

“I’m not going.”

Ignis watched Noctis from where they stood across from each other on the Citadel steps, glancing past him to the curb where a black car with tinted windows idled, the driver standing impatiently beside it. The man tapped at his watch with a scowl, and Ignis looked back to the less-than-pleased prince before him.

Noctis’s tie was askew, jacket unbuttoned, and he had left behind the briefcase Ignis had painstakingly prepared for him.

“Your Highness,” Ignis began, watching Noctis’s eyes flash at the formality. “Being late on your first day of high school is not—”

“Like I said, I’m not going to school. Why can’t I just take lessons here like I’ve always done? _You_ get to!”

Ignis counted to five in his head before giving his answer. He had been using the grounding technique constantly over the past year to curb his temper. Noctis would be the death of him, he had decided. Ignis wasn’t sure where the animosity was coming from, but it was growing old, _fast_. “Your father would like you to experience what every child your age does. He wants you to feel _normal_. Consider it a privilege that most royalty is not afforded.”

“There’s nothing _normal_ about me, and you know it. Not sure why dad wants me to pretend all of a sudden."

Noctis looked into the distance, shoulders still pulled up towards his ears. Ignis wanted nothing more than to reach over and pull them down, fix Noctis’s tie, and give him a hug goodbye, but he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he waited expectantly, fixing Noctis with his sternest look. 

Seeing that the prince wasn’t budging, Ignis changed tactics.

“Noct, please. How do you know you won’t enjoy it unless you give it a try?” 

Noctis looked back at him, eyes narrowing slightly. He knew all of Ignis’s tricks by now.

“I already get enough stares when I’m out in public, Iggy. I know how this is gonna go.”

“It may be difficult, but can you at least try? For your father’s sake?” Ignis asked, spreading his hands helplessly. Noctis glanced away again, more distant than before. There was silence, and after a slight hesitation, Ignis ventured to try something new. “For me, then?”

He didn’t have to fake the vulnerability in his tone.

When their eyes locked, there was something different in Noctis’s face— _pain_ , and uncertainty. He was afraid, Ignis realized. It took him aback, and he submitted to his initial desires, carefully leaning in to redo Noctis’s tie and adjust his jacket, giving both of them time to recalibrate.

“You know I will assist you in any way that I can,” Ignis said as he pulled the striped fabric around Noctis’s neck through its loop.

“I know.” Noctis heaved a sigh of defeat. The battle had ended, and the metaphorical dust was beginning to settle. “I’ll try." 

Ignis offered a smile as a truce, trying to put on a brave face for them both. That awful aching in his heart was back again, stronger than ever before.

“Thank you, Noct.”

He hugged him, and though it was brief, it was not at all awkward like Ignis feared, and Noctis was even smiling when they pulled apart. Ignis stood on the steps as Noctis walked towards where his chauffeur was anxiously pacing, undoubtedly worrying about the trouble he would get into with his superior for being late. Ignis waved goodbye as Noctis disappeared into the front seat and the car rolled away from the curb, vanishing around a corner.

He remained there long after it disappeared, the ache inside him only worsening with every passing second.

— **12** —

“Noct, I received word you missed your first period—”

Noctis blinked into the harsh sunlight that was now streaming into his eyes, and Ignis stopped halfway through the reprimand, eyebrows that had been furrowed in irritation smoothing into something resembling concern.

Ignis’s anger was lost in the vacuum created by Noctis’s pitiful expression. “Are you ill?” he questioned, hand already moving to feel his forehead. Noctis shivered, skin cool and clammy beneath Ignis's warm fingers.

“I dunno, but I feel like death." His voice croaked out of his dry throat, nearly unrecognizable. “Sorry… I don’t think I heard my alarm,” he went on.

Ignis shook his head.

“I will call the doctor.” Noctis sat up suddenly, grabbing Ignis’s arm as he moved to reach for the phone that was in his pocket.

“No—don’t!” Noctis sank down into his pillows, eyes squeezing shut. “Can’t you just stay instead?”

Sighing a little, Ignis sat on the edge of the bed as he weighed his options. Noctis’s hand remained wrapped around his wrist, and it might as well have been a leash on a dog. It was infuriating the amount of control Noctis had over him, and Ignis hoped he never learned of it.

“All right, but you must eat and take medicine, and if you do not improve, I _will_ have the physician come over. You remember the last time you got sick—”

“That was a freak thing,” Noctis insisted weakly. Ignis bit back what he wanted to remind him—that he had grown up a fragile thing, needing constant supervision and prodding to maintain his health, and that they had too many close calls and scares to count, but Noctis wasn’t that same boy now, and Ignis wanted— _needed_ to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was becoming a young man, capable of making (some) decisions for himself, this being one of them.

 _Time to loosen the leash_. It was harder than Ignis cared to admit.

Letting his usual protests fall by the wayside, Ignis observed how Noctis’s face looked nearly translucent in the sun, dark bags under his eyes. “Try to rest,” he urged, slipping off the bed and onto his feet.

“Where are you going?” Noctis murmured, worry evident. The sound of it made a pang shoot through Ignis’s chest, but he didn’t fidget, and he didn’t flinch. Ignis had gotten very good at ignoring the pains Noctis unknowingly inflicted on him. So much so that he barely noticed them anymore— _barely_.

“I am going to make you something to eat. It shouldn’t be long,” Ignis reassured him, giving him a pat on the arm for good measure. Noctis gave the slightest of nods, and Ignis immediately set to work, flitting out of the room and through the apartment, purpose making him move quicker than usual.

He returned sometime later to find Noctis asleep, breathing louder than normal as congestion made him labor to inhale. Ignis lingered in the doorway, fighting the instinct to pull his phone out again.

Closing the space between him and Noctis as quietly as possible, he set the tray in his hands down on the bedside table and drew the blinds. Ignis sank into a nearby chair, the burden of his station weighing heavier than usual, and watched as tendrils of steam from the soup he had prepared curled upwards, disappearing into the shadows alongside his thoughts.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Ignis whispered. He sat back, folding his hands in his lap, willing to wait for as long as necessary, and maybe a little bit longer.

— **13** —

“You want to come?”

Ignis looked up from the report he was perusing, lines detailing Insomnia’s most recent political developments jarringly interrupted by a pair of pale blue eyes peeking over the stack of paperwork on his desk.

“Hm?” He had only been half-listening to Noctis ramble about his day, and he tried to recall the prince’s most recent string of words from what his mind had grasped.

_School – friend – homework – tonight._

Ignis finally gave up trying to piece together the meaning, looking apologetic when Noctis rolled his eyes, leaning over the desk insistently.

“Tonight, I’m having a friend from school stay over. Want to come hang out with us?” Noctis phrased the request with care, and Ignis adjusted his glasses to avoid looking directly at him. It was easier for the advisor not to be swayed by Noctis’s gravity that way.

 _Three out of four words. Not bad_ , Ignis mused.

“ _Ignis_ ,” Noctis groaned, impatient.

The advisor pushed his reading aside with a sigh to show the prince he had his full attention. “Which friend is this?” He remembered Noctis mentioning a classmate here and there, although one name had been coming up in conversation more often recently: Prompto Argentum.

Ignis would never tell the prince that he had already ran several background checks on the boy already— just to be safe. Thankfully, Prompto’s dossier had turned out rather unimpressive, and so Ignis had tolerated listening about Noctis’s outings with his new friend, only expressing displeasure when they stayed up too late on school nights. It was the first time Noctis had taken interest in someone since—well, _ever_ —and Ignis was cautiously supportive, even if the amount of time the two were spending together was beginning to chafe at him.

“Please? He’s dying to meet you,” Noctis stated. Ignis made the mistake of glancing up, his breath lost in the hopeful look reflected in Noctis’s eyes. “It’s the weekend, and all my homework is done,” Noctis went on, reading Ignis’s hesitation like a book.

“There is some work I should see to,” Ignis answered, but there was a waver in his tone, belaying the weakness of the excuse. Noctis started grinning and Ignis sighed as if all the strength had been sucked out of him—because it had. “All right, I suppose I could come over this evening.”

“Great! You’re the best, Iggy—seven?” Noctis was already heading out the door of Ignis’s office in the Citadel, and his advisor’s reply hit the prince’s back as he rushed out.

“Seven it is.”

When the sound of Noctis’s footsteps were no longer audible, Ignis reached into the drawer of his desk, rifling through a series of folders to find Prompto’s. Pulling it, he crossed one leg over the other and sat back, flipping it open before beginning to read.

* * *

Ignis could hear the laughter down the hall as he approached, and when he opened the doors to Noctis’s chambers, he took a moment to observe the two teenagers on the bed, a fluffy head of blond hair immediately catching his eye.

“ _Dude_ , that’s too funny. You think she meant it?” the boy Ignis could only assume was Prompto Argentum was saying. Neither of them looked in Ignis’s direction when he stepped in, too engrossed in their conversation to notice his arrival.

For the first time in recent years, Ignis felt out of place, and the unwelcome emotion made his lips press into a thin line. He nearly turned around to leave, but Noctis rolled over with a laugh, gaze falling on Ignis in the process. The opportunity to retreat passed, forcing Ignis to commit to a smile he didn't feel.

“Iggy!”

Noctis scrambled to his feet, and Prompto immediately jumped up to follow, looking like a child who had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 _Charming_ , Ignis thought, a little unkindly. He found himself scanning the stranger, taking in his messy hair, faded jeans, and chocobo print t-shirt.

Noctis waved Prompto forward, and Ignis watched as his cheeks flush, highlighting the splash of freckles across them.

“Hey there, I’m Prompto Argentum!” He stuck his hand out, grinning.

“I know,” Ignis said before he could stop himself, waiting a couple of seconds before accepting it. He squeezed a little harder than usual, strangely satisfied when the boy winced, his blush deepening. Noctis cleared his throat and Ignis released his hold, still smiling.

It was a, _I’m being nice because I have to_ smile, and it was as friendly as if he were holding a dagger.

“Noct has told me all you,” Prompto said in a rush, not meeting Ignis’s eyes directly. Ignis wasn’t sure what Noctis saw in this new 'friend', but he nodded politely, unable to ignore Noctis's stormy expression in his periphery.

 _“_ Oh?” 

_Noct_ , _is it now? I thought only I called him that._ Ignis felt an emotion shoot through him with shocking intensity, a violent heat that stabbed behind his sternum and wormed its way up into his throat. He bit back a comment that he would have regretted later, listening as Prompto stumbled over his words.

“Y-yeah! How you were assigned to be his advisor since, like, you were _really_ little and you’ve been together forever and you’re _best_ friends, and I thought, _wow_ , how cool to know someone your whole life! I wish I had someone like that.” Prompto looked up sheepishly and Ignis blinked, turning towards Noctis.

“…best friends?”

Noctis shrugged, and Ignis felt some of his anger evaporate when he saw his rare, bashful smile.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s really an honor to be meeting you, Mr. Scientia, sir,” Prompto gushed. Jealousy slowly loosened its hold on Ignis’s heart as he turned back to Prompto. When he smiled this time it was sincere.

“Just Ignis, if you please.”

“Well then, _just_ Ignis,” Prompto beamed. “It’s an honor to finally meet you. I hope we can be friends, too.”

“If you’re a friend of Noct’s, then I have no doubt we will be."

Noctis draped his arms around both of them. “Great. Now, who’s ready to play some King’s Knight? The new update just came out.”

“Ooh, ooh, me!” Prompto exclaimed, bouncing up and down. “Ignis, do you play?”

Noctis answered before Ignis had the chance, groaning. “Yeah, he does, and he’s _stupid_ good at it, too. I don’t think he’s human if we’re being honest. There’s really nothing he’s not good at,” he claimed as they started moving back towards his bed where their phones had been discarded.

_Oh, if only you knew._

Prompto eyed Ignis with stars in his eyes, and Ignis reached to push his glasses all the way up the bridge of his nose, cheeks warming beneath his awed gaze.

“Come now, I’m nothing special.”

Noctis rolled his eyes as he threw himself down on the bed, saying off-handedly, “Don’t be modest. You _are_ special. At least, you are to _me_.”

Thankfully, Prompto filled in all the gaps in conversation from that point forward, because for the first time in Ignis’s life, he was rendered completely speechless.

— **14** —

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, and there was a stillness in the air that was difficult to find normally, let alone in the heart of Insomnia. There weren’t many people at the marina when they arrived, and the driver let Noctis and Ignis out near the pier before pulling away to park, the assumption that the two would stay close an unspoken agreement between the three of them.

They strolled across the gravel lot wordlessly, passing moored boats that seemed to watch them as they passed, taking in the white walls that stretched around the man-made lake, a bowl that was now slowly filling with light.

When they reached the end of the pier, Noctis took a seat, holding out his hand to summon his trusty fishing rod from the armiger, another power he had been using with surprising efficiency as of late. It was hard for Ignis to believe Noctis was already in his senior year of high school.

_Where has the time gone?_

Moments like this were becoming harder and harder to come by, and although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, Ignis had been looking forward to watching Noctis fish. It was a welcome change of pace from the hustle and bustle of his everyday work, which had only increased in scope since joining the Crownsguard in recent years. At least he could commiserate with Gladio—the Shield was just as busy, if not in different aspects.

“You can sit, you know,” Noctis said as he cast his line, looking out across the water pensively. Ignis did so, pulling one knee into his chest to rest his arms on.

The air _tasted_ clean, an oasis in the middle of a concrete jungle. Ignis inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut.

“You ever think of getting out of Insomnia?”

The question was soft-spoken, but it made Ignis’s eyes shoot open.

“Certainly not,” he answered without hesitation. Noctis made a noise, a mix of disbelief and irritation.

“ _Never_?” The prince sat back, settling in to wait for any sign of action, finally looking in Ignis’s direction.

“My life is tied to yours, where else would I go?” Ignis asked, trying to soften his incredulous tone with a laugh.

“Yeah, but if you _weren’t_ my advisor. Or, if you had the choice. Would you?”

Ignis frowned, eyes focusing on Noctis’s lure as it bobbed on the surface of the lake.

“I have never considered it before, no. Where is this coming from?” Ignis leaned a little closer to Noctis, scrutinizing his guarded expression. It was an expression he wore when he was considering something he thought Ignis would disapprove of. Ignis wasn’t sure he liked how often he was seeing it on Noctis’s face lately, but he hadn’t known how to address it. It seemed like he would finally get his chance.

Noctis sighed, not answering right away. His feet dangled off the edge of the dock, and he kicked them idly.

“I just…I was thinking how life might be different if I wasn’t the prince. Prompto has no idea what he’s gonna do after he graduates, and he’s—I don’t know, _scared_. Me? It’s the same-old-same-old. Back to the Citadel, council meetings, and political appearances. All of my classmates are talking about getting jobs, or going away to college.”

There was a pause as neither of them spoke, Ignis carefully considering the new information.

“There’s a huge world out there, and I’ve never seen any of it,” Noctis added. “I don’t _get_ to, and neither do you, all because we just so happened to be born into our families. Seems a little unfair.”

“There’s no changing fate,” Ignis finally commented. “There are many people who would much rather be in your position.”

“Prompto wouldn’t,” he grumbled as he reeled in on the line slowly.

“Prompto doesn’t remember what he had for breakfast," Ignis teased, but it failed to earn him a laugh, and Noctis didn't seem eager to continue the conversation

The space between them filled with the sounds of the morning, the gentle swish of the water as the breeze caressed it overlaid with birdsong. Time stretched long, and though Ignis hadn't forgotten the conversation, he knew better than to press Noctis for answers.

The sun was high in the sky, beating down with surprising intensity before Noctis spoke again.

“We should run away.”

Ignis, in the middle of scanning an email on his phone, had a delay in processing the words.

“Pardon?”

Noctis was reeling something in, which was probably for the best—it meant he couldn’t see how nervous Ignis looked. _Surely, he’s joking…?_

“We should run away together—you and me.”

 _Confident_. He wasn’t joking.

Ignis stared, allowing the sentence to run straight into the wall around his heart. The impact created the smallest of cracks—a weakness in his otherwise impenetrable defense—one that he wasn’t prepared for.

“You can’t,” Ignis said simply, because he had no better way of saying it.

 _We can’t_.

“Who says?” Noctis was straining against the line now, standing for added leverage. Ignis still had his phone in his hand, thumb pressing more firmly against the screen.

“ _Noct_ ,” Ignis protested, fumbling for words. He wasn’t sure how or why, but his tongue didn’t seem to want to cooperate, every syllable it attempted to form getting stuck to the back of his teeth like peanut butter.

Noctis arched—the line snapped.

Ignis was in motion before he knew exactly what he was doing, arms stretched wide to catch Noctis as he fell backward.

He embraced him clumsily, the full force of Noctis's body throwing him off balance, and they landed with a loud _thud_ against the pier, rolling dangerously close to the edge.

When they skidded to a stop, they opened their eyes, both having squeezed them shut to brace for impact.

Now, Ignis inhaled sharply from where he found himself pinned beneath Noctis, staring up into pools of gray—no, _starlight_. Noctis didn’t move away, forearms on either side of Ignis’s head, the only thing keeping his full bodyweight from pressing down on him.

Maybe it was cliché, but to Ignis’s mind, the world came to a standstill. Well, everything except for his beating heart, which felt as if it might tear out of his chest and cannonball into the water below.

"Nice catch," Noctis murmured.

"Thank you."

_Thank you?_

After a couple of excruciating seconds of staring blankly at one another, Noctis finally pulled away, the world resuming its lackadaisical pace while Ignis’s heart continued speeding like a runaway train. If Ignis didn’t know any better, he would say that Noctis looked disappointed, but that was an observation he quickly buried alongside other thoughts that would never see the light of day.

Noctis sat back, gathering his fishing pole from where he had dropped it, and Ignis righted himself slowly, looking anywhere and everywhere else.

“Are you getting hungry? Perhaps we should head back for lunch.”

“Yeah, okay,” Noctis agreed without hesitation.

Ignis got to his feet, turning towards where the car was parked, ignoring the feeling of eyes burrowing into his back as he walked away.

— **15** —

Ignis stood at the back of the crowd that poured from the room, pushing up onto his tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse of the students who were arranged in neat rows at the front of the cramped auditorium. Their gold caps and tassels looked matte in the low light, making it difficult to distinguish one person from the other, but he scanned the sea of heads relentlessly, searching.

He had nearly given up when he heard a familiar laugh cut through the noise, a toss of blond hair noticeable even in the dark.

 _Prompto_.

They should have been in alphabetical order, but—

Ignis smiled to himself when he saw Noctis’s head turn towards the boy, both of them grinning and laughing as if nothing else in the world mattered. The advisor wondered how they had managed to be seated together for the ceremony, then concluded that Noctis wasn’t above using his royal status whenever it suited him.

“Standing room only, huh?” a familiar voice grunted. “This crowd is ridiculous—must be because King Regis is here. The security detail has its panties in a bunch over it. Glad I’m not working today.”

Ignis turned to Gladio and nodded wordlessly, the two of them managing to slip along the back wall between an older couple and a gaggle of children. They planted their feet firmly, acknowledging they would be there a while. For a few minutes they took in the sights of family and friends as they struggled to locate their seats, individuals waving and calling out to one another as they squeezed past others in the crowd.

“It’s a miracle he’s graduating. Guess we have you to thank for that,” Gladio joked.

Ignis shrugged, not accepting or denying the praise outright. It was common knowledge that he was largely responsible for Noctis's success, but even so, he liked to believe that Noctis had done his fair share of the work. His eyes remained trained on him now, lips curled up in easy repose as he considered how far they both had come.

“What’s next?” Gladio prodded.

“Hmm?” Ignis tore his gaze away from where Noctis and Prompto now had their temples pressed together, most likely looking at something on one of their phones.

“After graduation? What do you think is next for His Royal Pain in the Ass?” Gladio was teasing, but Ignis took the question to heart, not responding right away.

“Perhaps some political tours. More council involvement, no doubt.” People were finally in their places and a hush was falling over the crowd, the headmaster taking the stage. Ignis’s voice softened to match the mood. “Whatever comes next, we will guide him to the best of our ability.”

The answer must have satisfied the Shield, because he folded his arms and leaned back, attention now front and center. Ignis felt the vibration of his phone in his jacket pocket and discreetly checked the message that popped up on his screen. It was from Noctis.

_You here, Specs?_

He typed a reply without looking, although no one seemed to notice that he was on his phone.

_Of course._

Not even seconds after Ignis sent the text did he see Noctis turn around in his seat, peering through the shadows of the auditorium. Ignis gave a wave and was rewarded with his favorite of Noctis’s smiles—all teeth, genuine and radiant.

Ignis’s heart did that troublesome thing he had now come to expect, rattling inside his ribcage like a pinball.

 _Come what may, I will be here_ , Ignis thought. He kept his hand firmly in his pocket throughout the ceremony, grasping his phone—just in case—as the man on stage addressed the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate a milestone in the lives of these young people, a momentous accomplishment that deserves to be recognized and rewarded. Many will look back on these years and say they were some of the best of their lives, but I am here to tell you that the best is yet to come…”

— **16** —

“Wait!” Ignis shouted, reaching for Noctis helplessly as he stormed past. Noctis warped out of reach, and Ignis had to fight the urge to scream in frustration. 

Noctis whirled around from where he had appeared several yards ahead, eyes narrowed threateningly.

“He can suck my dick for all I care!”

 _“Noct!is Lucis Caelum_ ” Ignis hissed. He managed to snatch Noctis’s wrist, and Ignis tugged him down a side hall of the Citadel, away from the prying eyes of curious onlookers who were walking by. He shoved Noctis against the wall—a little harder than intended—and glared down at him. “Please try to control yourself, as is becoming of a man of your station.”

“ _Fuck_ this,” Noctis snapped, and he pushed Ignis away, folding into himself like a child throwing a tantrum.

No amount of internal counting could stop Ignis’s wave of fury this time. Noctis might have been full of thunder and lightning, but Ignis was a hurricane—deadly once you departed from its calm and collected center.

“Stop this behavior _immediately_.”

“Tell Gladio that!”

Ignis permitted Noctis to pace back and forth, both of their muscles taut with pent-up energy.

“Tell me what happened,” Ignis urged. His fingers were itching to touch his glasses, but he forced them to his sides, balling hands into fists.

“He—argh!” Noctis threw his arms up, gesticulating wildly. “He just—I’m tired of him constantly berating me! You need to act more like a _prince_ , you need to do _this_ , you need to do _that_! The _fuck_ does he know?”

“Like me, he wants what is best for you, that’s all,” Ignis tried to level his tone, but seeing Noctis’s jerky movements had him on edge, and it came out sharper than intended.

“ _You_ don’t make me want to punch things—usually.” Under more favorable circumstances, Ignis would have laughed, but all the humor had been sucked out of him by the black hole that went by the name of Noctis Lucis Caelum, the space it left behind instead with an adrenaline-induced fervor. He continued his tirade, voice carrying even as Ignis tried to shush him. “He said that no one would want to marry a spoiled brat, and when I told him _Joke’s on you, I never want to get married_ —you know what he said?” Noctis scoffed, stopping long enough to turn towards Ignis. “He said that it was already decided. That I’m going to marry _Luna_ of all people, and then he got mad when _I_ called him a liar…” Noctis let his anger die mid-sentence as his eyes met Ignis’s, brought to a grinding halt by the terrible truth reflected in them.

It was Noctis’s fault that Ignis couldn’t control his face—usually, he had time to mentally prepare, to hide behind the wall he had been constructing since childhood, but Noctis had a knack for exposing and chipping away at its cracks, creating Noctis-sized holes for him to walk through. Today, the strength of his emotions was a stick of dynamite, causing what was left of the wall to crumble, leaving Ignis’s heart dangerously vulnerable to attack.

_A perfect storm._

“Ignis…?” Noctis spoke in a hushed tone, and Ignis looked away, ashamed. The silence spoke for him.

“I…” Ignis searched hopelessly for an explanation but knew that there was nothing he could say to assuage Noctis’s fears. “I was going to tell you; I just hadn’t found the right moment. I’m sorry, Noct.”

When Ignis finally looked back at him, it was as if the storm clouds in Noctis's eyes had turned to funnels, tornados running wild and hellbent on destroying everything in their path.

“I hate both of you.” It was a strangled sound, and it hurt worse than a stab wound, raw agony filling Ignis’s ribcage as he took a shaky breath. The silence intensified, like dust settling after an explosion.

He wasn’t sure when Noctis left exactly. At first, Ignis thought it was because his glasses must have slid down too far that his vision was blurry, but when he reached up to adjust them, he found they were perfectly in place. The only difference was the dampness of his cheeks, tears streaming uncontrolled down them as his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

He knew that nothing would ever be the same between him and Noct again.


	4. love I seemed to lose

— **17** —

The sky was gray and indifferent. The Citadel was gray, too, large windows absorbing the muted colors of the city around it and spreading it like paint across the stone walls and hallways.

Ignis was dressed in his Crownsguard fatigues when he was summoned into the throne room, and he tried to prepare himself for what he knew was about to happen. He, like everyone else in Insomnia, had already heard the news; the Empire was coming to sign a ‘peace treaty.’ Soon, there would be an end to the terrible war that had been raging for decades.

And Noctis would be married to Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae as a symbol of the truce between Insomnia and Niflheim—a happily ever after was within reach. There was _hope_.

But Ignis wasn’t so sure.

Noctis had come to accept his fate over the last few months, even smiling and laughing again in public, but there was a distance between the prince and Ignis that could not be breached, a trust that had been broken. No matter how much Ignis tried, the gap between them only continued to grow. And so, Ignis devoted himself to his work, attempting to ignore the heaviness that sat in his gut and never truly went away.

“Ignis, come in,” King Regis beckoned from where he sat. Ignis obeyed, approaching the throne as he had countless times over the years, bowing when he reached the foot of the stairs. King Regis scanned him with a smile that was more subdued than usual, but Ignis pretended not to notice. Everyone was a little more on edge lately—it was nothing to concern himself with.

“I’ve come to ask something of you. Something that may be a heavier burden than you are willing to bear.” The words stung, chafing Ignis’s against his sense of pride.

_Haven’t I carried every burden that has ever been placed on me with grace and dignity? Why would this be any different?_

“I live to serve, Your Majesty,” Ignis murmured, head still inclined in deference.

“Look at me, Ignis.” It was the gravity of the king’s words that made him tremble as he lifted his head. “I am tasking you with something very important—you must listen carefully. I need you and Gladio to escort Noctis to Altissia for his wedding. Take whoever else you think is necessary to ensure Noctis’s wellbeing.” King Regis paused, looking past Ignis contemplatively, and it took everything in Ignis not to turn and follow his gaze. "…and when the time comes, you must swear on your life to do whatever is needed to help Noctis fulfill his destiny—no matter the cost.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. It is House Scientia’s calling—”

“No,” King Regis said firmly, interrupting. “I am not asking this of you as Noctis’s advisor, but as his friend. Please, take care of my son. We are all depending on you. _I_ am depending on you.”

There was an undeniable finality to King Regis’s request, and it sent a thrill of fear down Ignis’s spine.

“Sire, if there is something troubling you…” Ignis paused, unsure how to proceed. He had known the king his entire life, but his training told him to stick to proper etiquette, so Ignis bit his tongue, swallowing a series of questions in the process. King Regis sighed, and for a moment, the wrinkles on the man’s face deepened into a frown, reminding him just how old and frail the king had become—how much the power of the Crystal _drained_ Noctis’s father, a blessing and a curse that would one day fall to the prince.

“I will do everything in my power to ensure that Noctis is delivered to Altissia safely,” Ignis vowed.

“Thank you,” King Regis sighed, then grew quiet, looking into the distance once more. All Ignis could do was wait until he was dismissed, so he clasped his hands behind him and kept his eyes forward, trying not to think about the strange request.

Eventually, the king spoke again. “It is unfair what I ask of you, and yet, you are the best suited to guide Noctis on his path. Thank you, Ignis. I have always thought of you as a second son, and I hope the gods will be merciful towards you on your journey.” He heaved another deep sigh, which served to mask Ignis’s sharp inhalation, the memory of standing in front of his parents’ grave while listening to King Regis give their eulogies suddenly jumping to the forefront of this mind.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he managed to say.

With a slight nod of the king's head, Ignis was dismissed, and he walked quickly out of the high-ceilinged room, running from the ghosts of his past, and apprehensive of his future.

— **18: Interlude** —

The stars shone brightly above the glow of the campfire, but Ignis couldn’t see the light from either, only the shadows that forever danced behind his eyelids. Sometimes, if he focused, he could make out the distinct outlines of bodies moving, but it had become significantly harder since the darkness had fallen across Eos.

“You know the rest of the tale,” Ignis murmured. Even though Gladio and Prompto had grown quiet half-way through his story, he knew they were still listening by how they shifted in their chairs, creaks and groans accenting tense moments in the narrative. He imagined the two men leaning forward, elbows on knees, heads in hands. Gladio would be wearing a stony expression, while Prompto’s mouth would be hanging open in blatant awe.

“We have plenty of time—don’t stop now,” Prompto pleaded. “Besides, it’s kinda nice to hear your side of things. I never knew that…well, there was _so_ much.”

“Yeah, Iggy. You never told me any of this.” Gladio sounded a little offended, and Ignis hummed.

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t told _anyone_ this.” Judging by the silence, it didn’t make it better. “Very well,” he said placatingly. “What else would you like to know?”

“Everything!” Prompto chirped.

Ignis chuckled. “There’s hardly time for all that.”

“Well, we have the rest of our lives now, don’t we?”

Gladio’s question was rhetorical, but Ignis had an answer that he wouldn't voice.

 _All of us, save for one_. The absence of the familiar pang in his heart that Ignis had grown to expect hurt more than any wound. There was a hole inside him that he was afraid would never be filled. Only time would tell if his suspicions were correct.

“When Insomnia fell…” Prompto’s words grabbed Ignis’s attention. He remembered that day vividly, the image of Noctis’s face when he told him forever etched into his mind. “…I wanted to give up, then. I didn’t know what to say to Noct, but somehow _you_ did. Some _friend_ I am— _was_.” Ignis swallowed hard at Prompto’s correction.

 _Was_. He hurried past the thoughts that threatened to creep in.

“I merely listened. No special words were spoken.” It was a little embarrassing to be placed on a pedestal by Prompto, the one Noctis had specifically _chosen._ Out of the three of them, he was the only friend not thrust on Noctis at birth, and it was something Ignis had always envied of him.

“Still! He went to you, Iggy. Anytime things went sideways, you were always his number one. Not gonna lie, I was always a little jealous of that,” Prompto confessed.

“Honestly,” Ignis tutted, now thoroughly flustered. Speaking so frankly about his feelings was something Ignis had little practice with, a life of service rendering him ill-equipped for flattery, even if it was from some of his closest friends. No one spoke for a while, and he attempted to regain his composure while listening to the pop of the fire before him.

“If I was his Shield, you were his Sword,” Gladio said. “I protected him, but you _equipped_ him—prepared him for anything and everything. He couldn’t have done it without you, Iggy.”

_Not this again._

“Come now,” Ignis scoffed. “All of us played our part in this.”

“No, Gladio’s right,” Prompto insisted, adamant in his support. “You know when Noct started collecting the Astrals' blessings? The first time he summoned Ramuh was _crazy_ —you remember, right, Gladio?” 

“I remember, all right.”

“As Crownsguard, we were all trained to have each other’s backs—always,” Ignis spoke firmly— _confidently_ —because he knew no other way to be, but he could practically _hear_ his friends shaking their heads.

“You always knew just what to do, Iggy. When Noct collapsed like that…we would have lost our damn minds if not for you. Forget the fact that we had a bunch of Niffs on our asses at the time.”

Gladio’s sentiments stirred something in Ignis’s chest—the smallest of sparks, a familiar warmth spreading through his torso. He allowed his thoughts to swirl and stagnate, a tidepool among an ocean of memories.

He thought of that time now, when Noctis had stretched forth his hand and called a god from the ether for the first time.

* * *

_Full of lightning._

Ignis had known it for ages, but seeing it come to literal fruition was something else entirely. With Noctis’s gaze alight with an otherworldly hue and sparks dancing across his skin, the others could only watch as the power of kings manifested before their very eyes.

When it was all said and done, they had managed to retreat to a haven, safe at last from the Empire’s clutches. Noctis had been unusually quiet during their retreat. It wasn’t until they had climbed atop the rune-embedded camping ground that his knees had given out unexpectedly. Prompto had let loose a cry of alarm, and Gladio had whirled around just in time to see Ignis bound forward and catch Noctis before hitting the ground.

_I won’t let you fall._

Noctis had passed out cold, and Prompto and Gladio flew to Ignis’s side as he began barking orders. “Gladio—a phoenix down, quickly. Prompto, fetch me some water from the stream there, use the bucket in the trunk of the Regalia.”

“Got it!” they chorused before jumping into action.

Meanwhile, Ignis had pulled Noctis across his lap, propping him against his chest. Noctis's breathing was shallow, barely noticeable unless you were listening for it, and his eyes were closed, scars of the electricity pumping through his veins leaving pale zigzags across his exposed skin.

“I’ve got you,” Ignis whispered.

Noctis’s body had been cool to the touch despite the crackling heat emitting from Ramuh’s marks, and as Ignis waited for Gladio and Prompto to return, he marveled, as he often did, at how one person could take on so much. The weight of Ignis's station seemed feather-light in comparison.

Eventually, Gladio and Prompto returned. They watched as magic filled Noctis’s lungs to bursting, bringing him back from the brink of death. Noctis sputtered, and coughed, then immediately sank into a fitful sleep. Ignis used the water Prompto had retrieved to make cool compresses, mixing herbs and potions to create an ointment for Noctis's singed skin. They let Ignis over at Noctis's side for the remainder of the evening, Prompto and Gladio tending to the campfire, while Ignis tended to the fire that burned Noctis’s soul.

When Noctis opened his eyes again, they were their familiar pale blue, no lightning to be found.

“Ignis?” Noctis coughed.

“Here, Noct.” Ignis felt the brush of fingertips over the back of his hand and shuddered, turning his face out of the lamplight so Noctis wouldn’t see. Perhaps he had been wrong about there not being any lightning left in him.

“What happened?”

Noctis tried to sit up, but Ignis gently pushed him down. For once, he submitted without a fight.

“You summoned Ramuh. It seems like it was a little too much for your body to handle. Rest now, I will get you something to eat.” When Ignis turned to leave the tent, a firm grip on his hand stopped him. He looked back down to where Noctis was gazing at him pleadingly.

 _Damn that leash_.

“Stay a little longer.”

Ignis had smiled, but there was a pang in his heart that he was all too familiar with. “You know, that’s what you used to say whenever you were sick as a child.”

“Oh? Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, Specs.”

“Whatever for?” Ignis sat cross-legged, allowing himself to relax.

Noctis sighed cryptically, tossing his head. “For everything.” Although he felt his heart begin to race, Ignis forced a laugh.

“That’s awfully vague, Noct.”

When Noctis met Ignis’s eyes, he was held captive by them. Neither of them breathed. Ignis _knew_ then what he was sorry for, and he was grateful, but he also couldn’t help thinking that it was too late. Noctis was the first to turn away, and Ignis brain resumed its normal function, emotion ebbing. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you guys. Looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m going to become king,” Noctis said wryly.

Ignis didn’t speak right away—he didn’t want to rush his response. Noctis waited patiently, watching the shadows in the dark folds of the tent’s ceiling.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Regardless of what happens, you know that we will be here to help you.” 

“You’ve got my back, Iggy?”

There was no hesitation. “Always.”

* * *

It had been over a decade ago, but Ignis remembered it plain as day. Realizing that Gladio and Prompto’s familiar noises had stopped, he was brought back to the present, reminding him that he now lived in a world without Noct.

“Sorry, I seem to have gotten lost in my own thoughts."

“That’s okay,” came Prompto’s soft reply. “…if it’s not too much, will you keep going?” Ignis nodded for their benefit, continuing through the museum of memories, brushing off the dust as he went.

— **19** —

The sudden sway of the car onto the road's shoulder made Ignis jerk, blinking his eyes and shaking his head in an attempt to dispel his fatigue. Gladio gave a low groan from the backseat, matching the tone of the car's wheels as they thudded loudly against the striations meant to warn drivers they were nearing the side of the road. Ignis whipped the Regalia back between the lines with a quick yank of the wheel, watching as Gladio and Prompto's unconscious forms slumped to the opposite side of the backseat in the rearview with the motion.

"Hey, you good, Specs?" Noctis questioned worriedly, yawning awake in the passenger's seat.

The only light was the car's headlights on the asphalt, and Ignis had to resist the urge to squint at Noctis lest he lose control of the wheel again. If it weren't for the clock on the dash, he would have had no way of knowing how late it truly was.

"Yes, I'm fine."

It was quiet for a second, and Ignis felt his head nodding, unable to resist the heavy pull of sleep. The Regalia strayed once more.

"Iggy," Noctis said, tensing. "Pull over for a sec."

Ignis wanted to protest, but he didn't have the energy, so he did as he was told, bringing the Regalia to a stop a few seconds later. They sat and listened to the engine purr, blending with the snores of the sleeping passengers behind them.

"Let me drive," Noctis insisted, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

"It's not far to the next haven. I can—"

"Ignis." 

Ignis glanced over to where Noctis had fixed him with a serious expression. It said many things, but primarily: _let me handle it_ and _trust me._ After a long moment of deliberation, Ignis sighed.

"Very well." They swapped seats, Gladio and Prompto none the wiser, and Noctis put the car in drive as Ignis slumped down, eyes sliding shut in relief.

"You could have asked, you know," Noctis said conversationally. Ignis murmured without looking at him.

"You were asleep."

"Yeah, well. You should take better care of yourself."

"My job is to take care of _you_." 

"Eyes on the road, highness," he muttered.

"How did you—?" Noctis laughed.

Ignis was smiling softly now, breaths growing deeper as the sway of the car lulled him.

When Noctis looked at Ignis next, his lips would be slightly parted, chest rising and falling in a comfortable rhythm.

— **20** —

Arriving in Altissia was like a dream. The sunlight sent a shimmer across the water as their boat sailed smoothly between the tall archways marking the city’s entrance. A thousand stars, dancing in the daytime. When they disembarked from the vessel, a slight breeze tousled the hair of the four men, all of them turning in a wide circle to take in the sights of the water-locked city.

“This place is _awesome_ ,” Prompto declared, making sure to emphasize each word. He already had his camera out and was snapping candid shots as they moved into the queue for customs.

“Remember what we’re here for,” Ignis said gently.

“And be on the lookout for the Empire,” Gladio added.

“Yeah, yeah, but c’mon guys, we should at least have a _little_ fun before Noct gets hitched—right, buddy?” Prompto looked over his shoulder to where Noct was busy reading a bulletin board, various advertisements posted to it.

“Hm? Yeah, sounds good,” he agreed distractedly before moving to join them in line, standing at Ignis’s side.

“The prince has spoken,” Prompto declared.

“He wasn’t even listening,” came Gladio’s response.

As Gladio and Prompto started talking, Noctis took a small step forward, hand and shoulder brushing Ignis’s side briefly. Ignis kept his eyes trained ahead, pretending not to notice.

“You’ve been here before, right, Iggy?” Noctis asked, quiet voice barely audible over Prompto and Gladio behind them.

“Yes, when I was very young.” He paused. “With my parents. They made trips here often.”

“I remember when—” Noctis started to say when Prompto abruptly threw his arms around him from behind, making him stumble forward into Ignis.

“Help—Gladio’s bullying me! I need my prince to save me!” Prompto’s laughter harmonized with Noctis’s groan, and Ignis smiled.

“Don’t expect me to save you, Specs is a better option—”

“He’s too busy saving _your_ ass all the time,” Gladio cut in, giving Noctis and Prompto each an aggressive noogie that had them both yelling.

“What brings you to Altissia?” an unamused looking guard asked as their group found themselves in front of the customs' booth, blatantly not looking at the three men who were acting like children. Ignis answered without missing a beat, throwing on a charming smile on for good measure.

“We’re here to study the city’s world-renowned cuisine. All of our papers are in order, as you can see...” Ignis flashed a letter with the Insomnian royal seal, which the attendant barely glanced at.

“Welcome to Altissia,” he replied blandly. “Enjoy your stay.”

* * *

“Oh, oh, lemme get this shot!” Prompto insisted for what seemed like the millionth time.

 _“Another_ one?” Gladio sighed.

“Listen, one day when we’re all old and gray, and you can’t remember your own name, you’re gonna appreciate having photos to look back on.”

Ignis and Noctis were already moving into position against the railing, happy to indulge Prompto’s whims so long as it made him smile. Gladio joined them with a shrug.

“Make sure to get my good side,” the Shield teased as Prompto danced backward, looking through his lens to line up the shot.

Prompto shook his head with a laugh. “Hey, Noct—the camera is over here, buddy.”

Ignis looked at Noctis curiously to find him taking a few hesitant steps away from their group. Confused, they all stopped to watch, eventually discovering what had captured his attention.

“Oh— _oh_!” Prompto exclaimed. They followed without realizing it, all of them coming to stand in front of a store display case where people had gathered, barely resisting the urge to press their faces to the glass. Ignis was watching Noctis’s reflection, observing his partially opened lips and wide eyes. “That’s _the_ dress, huh?” Prompto asked, stating the obvious.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding?” Gladio wondered. Prompto elbowed him in the ribs.

“We make our own luck!” Prompto glanced at Noctis nervously. “Right, Noct?” Noctis still hadn’t moved, and Ignis was beginning to worry when he shifted his gaze, meeting Ignis's eyes in the windowpane. 

“Think you can get some shots of this, Prompto?” Noctis finally asked.

“Definitely!”

Noctis and Ignis moved back, allowing Prompto to do his thing while Gladio hovered, poking gentle fun at his enthusiasm.

“It’s beautiful,” Ignis commented, attempting to make small talk. Noctis, gaze trained intently on Ignis’s face, nodded once.

“Yeah, it is.”

Ignis opened his mouth, then thought better of it, closing it firmly. “We should get going. It’s poor manners to keep your bride waiting."

He left Noctis by the railing of the walkway, rejoining Gladio and Prompto. Noctis's eyes on him felt like a ghost that he would never be able to shake.


	5. I shall but love thee better after death

— **21** —

The old adage holds true: _you don’t know what you have until it’s gone_.

When Ignis made his choice to don the ring of the Lucii, he had no idea what the true repercussions of his actions would be. His life was a small price to pay to ensure Noctis’s safety, but to live permanently marred was another notion entirely, and one he had horribly underprepared for.

If he had known when they arrived in Altissia what was to come, maybe he would have done things differently. Maybe, he would have been brave enough to not walk away from Noctis, to hold his gaze a little longer.

_But that was neither here, nor there._

The first morning of darkness was a bitter pill to swallow, anxiety and doubt snaking its way into the depths of Ignis’s heart and taking root—a poisonous seed that would soon spread throughout the man’s body, impossible to free himself from.

The burden of the future Ignis had seen was burned forever into his soul even as blindness hindered him, weighing on his person as the four continued their journey. Was this what King Regis had alluded to back when he had asked Ignis to ‘do whatever is needed to help Noctis fulfill his destiny—no matter the cost?’

It was a fate that was beyond cruel.

Above all else, one truth remained: Ignis had to help Noctis ascend as the True King, even if it meant sacrificing his future in the process. He had made a promise to Noctis’s father—and the world depended on it.

So he would do as he always had: stand by his prince’s side, guiding him through darkness and ruin, even it meant he could no longer navigate through his own.

“Ignis?”

He lifted his head and tried to orient himself, vague shapes shifting into his newly darkened vision. There was a _creak_ and the soft _thud-thud-thud_ of footsteps. Pushing himself upright, Ignis gathered the blankets around his waist with a _swish_. Even though he had fallen asleep in his clothes, an unusual chill had come over him.

The bed sighed with added weight and a warm hand found his, calloused fingers rubbing over the backs of his knuckles.

 _Prompto_ , he thought. The way he trembled slightly in his concern was a dead giveaway. Ignis forced a smile.

“Time to leave already?” Ignis could have sworn he had set an alarm, but the tactician had no way of reading the buttons, only inputting the time from sheer muscle memory. A mistake had inevitably been made if Prompto had been sent to retrieve him.

“Uh, yeah. We wanted to let you sleep.”

The silence stretched. Ignis imagined Prompto fidgeting nervously, tugging at his gloves, or maybe wrapping a finger around one of his fly-away hairs like he had the first day they had met. He never knew how to sit still. Reaching for his hands, Ignis found them clasped firmly on his knees, clenched with tension. He ran his fingers over the leather.

There was a soft inhalation of breath. Something had gone unsaid, and Ignis struggled to put a name to the sensation that now settled in his gut.

 _We._ He meant him and Gladio.

“Where is Noctis?”

Another silence, this one more fraught than the last. Ignis began to swing his feet over the edge of the bed, only to feel Prompto cling to his night shirt, tugging insistently.

“He’s still—” There was an undulation in Prompto’s tone, a reluctance. He was trying to protect Ignis from something, and he had to squash the feeling of resentment that rose in his chest.

Ignis would not be coddled. He was still the advisor to the Crown Prince of Lucis— _for now, at least._

When Ignis stumbled over something on the floor and fell, landing with a _crash_ , Prompto yelped, arms immediately wrapping around him supportively. His elbows and knees ached from where they had connected with the hardwood, but Ignis pushed Prompto away to hide his embarrassment.

“I’m quite all right." His voice sounded uncertain, even in his own ears.

 _I need to work on that_ , he noted.

“Here, we got you this.”

Something long and smooth was pressed into Ignis’s hand—a walking cane, it felt like. He held it out tentatively, a _tap_ sounding as it collided with the solid ottoman he had barreled into. More carefully this time, he took a step forward, using the implement to sweep the area in front of him for obstacles.

“Could you take me to him?” Ignis strained to listen, Prompto still gripping him by one arm.

“…okay,” Prompto finally said, reluctant.

Ignis trusted Prompto to take him to Noctis’s room in Lady Claustra’s estate. It had only been a few days since the tragic events at the Tidemother’s Altar, and they were all in a mourning period of sorts. Ignis knew that Noctis had taken the news of Lady Lunafreya’s death hard. After all, he had been the one to deliver the news. And yet…

“He hasn’t left his room since you told him,” Prompto explained, stopping abruptly before Ignis could twist the doorknob. “Gladio tried to get him to come out, and…well.”

Ignis could read between the lines.

“I see. Allow me to speak with him."

Prompto’s fingers twitched where they were curled about Ignis’s wrist.

“Iggy, he’s not himself.” His voice was subdued— _defeated_. Ignis’s hurt for what they all had lost. For what the _world_ had lost. Then, steeling himself, he pushed the door open.

“Wait here.”

He tried to remember the layout of the room from where he had entered it mere days ago. There were two high-backed chairs in the front area, a low table between them, then a large archway that led to a bed, dressers flanking it on either side. Ignis’s cane confirmed the mental image as he took measured steps into the bedroom, stopping when he hit the foot of the bed.

“Noctis?”

There was no response.

He felt along the sheets, rich fabric silky and cool beneath his palm. Eventually, Ignis found the solid form of a body beneath the duvet and sat, taking in a deep breath.

“Noct,” he said more firmly and was rewarded with a shifting of limbs, a _rustle_ sounding with the movement. “It’s time to get up.”

Ignis wasn’t prepared for the icy hand that found his, clinging to it as if for dear life. Even without his vision, the world seemed to tilt on its axis, and Ignis had to put his free hand out to steady himself. Warily, he brought a limb across his body, feeling over the delicate skin of Noctis’s exposed upper arm.

There were no words shared as Ignis trailed his touch up it to Noctis's face, outlining the firm bone of his jaw with his fingers. Eyes flutter closed, lashes brushing his knuckles, and Ignis was taken back to more than a decade prior, when he had seen Noctis in a wheelchair, dejected and downtrodden. There was a dampness to Noctis’s cheeks. He had been crying.

_Astrals help me._

“Ignis.” His voice was gravelly and rough.

Ignis felt his resolve waver.

There was a tug from Noctis, and suddenly Ignis was toppling sideways, landing with a _poof_ on the soft bed, their heads knocking together. Ignis winced from the spark of pain, then froze, suddenly aware of the warm breath brushing his neck, a cold nose pushing into his collar bone.

“Noct…” Ignis’s arms enfolded Noctis as if of their own free will, pain seeping down to the bone, worse than ever before. Noctis curled closer as if he intended to absorb Ignis into himself, desperate for an intimacy that no one else could provide.

Noctis had lost so much in such a short span of time, and Ignis hadn’t been able to stop the tides of fate from drowning them both.

_I have failed you._

They laid there, breaths falling into sync. Noctis never loosened his hold. 

“I can’t do this."

Ignis could feel his heart breaking anew, the jagged edges embedding in his lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

 _Not again_. Walls Ignis had only recently rebuilt were crumbling yet, leaving him vulnerable once more.

“You have to try.”

It wasn’t enough, and Ignis knew it, but the darkness he was experiencing was merely a fraction of what was to come. If Noctis couldn’t remain strong, all of them were doomed. “I’m here.” That too, was not enough, but it was all he had to offer.

“ _Why_? Why me? Why Luna? What did we do to deserve this?”

 _Life’s not fair._ That saying was also painfully true.

“I don’t want to be king,” Noctis moaned, continuing to rail against the gods and the world that had turned its back on him.

“I know,” Ignis whispered, tears threatening. He had known for years, yet, he couldn’t afford to break—not now, not in Noctis's moment of need.

Ignis ran a hand through Noctis’s hair, remembering its raven hue. He pictured the storm cloud eyes he had seen countless times before, shades of gray—sometimes blue when the light hit them just right. The way his lips pursed and pouted, soft and alluring. The smooth lines of his face.

The hardest thing to accept was the knowledge that he would never see his smile again. Death would have been kinder than this.

_Truly, the gods are laughing at us._

Ignis pressed a kiss to the top of Noctis’s head as he sobbed into his shirt, and Ignis clung to him, at a loss.

Eventually, the tears ebbed and he listened as they devolved into quiet sniffles while Noctis sought to compose himself.

“No matter how dark the night gets, the sun will always rise again.” Ignis put as much confidence as he could muster behind the words, praying that they would worm their way into Noctis’s mind for when he would need them most. “We cannot move back, only forward. One step at a time, we will get through this— _together_.”

There was a shuddering breath as Noctis inhaled, shallow at first, then deeper with a second try.

“You can’t even see the sun,” he pointed out miserably. "And it's all my fault." There was a deep hurt in the statement, laced with guilt and regret.

“No,” he did his best to smile, "but I _can_ feel it.”

_It’s going to be all right. So long as we have each other._

Bringing his head down so that their foreheads pressed together, Ignis inhaled deep and slow. 

One more adage came to mind then.

 _It is always darkest before the dawn._

— **22** —

When you live with pain for so long, eventually you become numb to it.

Ten years of night was nothing to Ignis. After all, he’d embraced darkness since donning the Ring of the Lucii in Altissia. King Regis had been right; the knowledge that Noctis was fated to die so that the world could live was too heavy of a burden to bear, but one that he would be forced to carry nonetheless.

The events at Zegnautus Keep could almost be counted as a blessing. It gave Ignis time to wrap his head around the idea of life without Noctis, a terrible existence that made him pray for death.

_It is House Scientia’s calling to serve the Kings of Lucis. Your life’s purpose._

He knew he couldn’t follow in Noctis’s footsteps until the king’s work was completed, so Ignis waited, biding his time while railing against the godsfor writing their stories' endings before they had the chance to take their first breaths.

The walls around Ignis’s heart were rebuilt and fortified in the decade of darkness, stronger than ever before. While others lamented the loss of the sun’s light, Ignis secretly gave thanks for it. It was an excuse for everyone to retreat into themselves—to mourn—and it was a reason for him to close off his heart and attempt to suffocate the emotions that whispered to him every night he was alone.

He became an expert at living in agony, an empty husk of what he once was, though no one else could tell the difference.

When the call came, he didn’t believe it at first. It was a strange stroke of luck that Ignis was at Hammerhead when it did. He had just finished helping a group of hunters defeat a troubling pack of daemons near the garage that had been making travel difficult, and was sipping from a cup of coffee, intent on heading back to Lestallum once he was finished.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and heard a robotic voice announce _Gladio Amicitia_ on repeat. It wasn’t like Gladio to call him—or for anyone to call him, for that matter, and it put Ignis on edge.

“Hello?”

Without his sight, Ignis was always subconsciously listening for the slightest fluctuations in voices. Gladio’s was too excited to be relaying anything less than extraordinary.

“He’s back,” he said.

With two words, that internal walls that had taken over a decade to build were demolished. If Ignis hadn’t already been seated, he would have crumpled to the floor from the sudden impact of a thousand emotions hitting him at once. Instead, he slid down in the booth, the sounds of the diner reduced to white noise in the background.

“I just got the call from Talcott. They’re on their way to Hammerhead. I’m heading that way now if you want to meet us.”

“I’m here,” Ignis said weakly.

“I’ll pick up Prompto on the way,” Gladio explained, the levity of his words at odds with the heaviness in Ignis’s chest, a pain he hadn’t experienced in years making each new breath labored. “See you soon, Iggy.”

 _See you_ , he thought, lips pressing together at the irony.

Ignis held the phone to his ear after the line cut out, surprised that he could still feel dizzy even without his sight. When the world finally stopped spinning around him, he laid his head down against the table.

That way, no one could see him cry.

* * *

Ignis heard the truck pulling into the gate—he had been listening for it. He was the first to his feet out of the three of them, conversation dying as Gladio and Prompto hurried to do the same. They were out the door when the engine cut off, and Ignis strained to hear every sound to ensure he didn’t miss anything.

The car door opened—it slammed shut. Two pairs of boot ground into gravel.

Ignis swallowed hard when Prompto grabbed him by the arm, unable to contain his excitement.

“Iggy— _Iggy_ , it’s really him!” he whispered.

“Hey.”

It was a casual greeting, but to Ignis, it was everything. When Prompto let go, he swayed slightly. 

_It's him._

“That’s all you have to say for yourself after all this time?” Gladio laughed. Ignis could sympathize with the sentiment, still processing his own feelings, albeit slowly.

“Noct! It’s you! It’s really you!” Ignis could hear the strain on the end of Prompto’s words, tears threatening.

“I hadn’t realized.” _Typical Noct_. Ignis allowed himself one smile, but it felt foreign on his lips. He hadn’t smiled much over the past several years.

“Well, well. You kept us waiting.” The quip was out of his mouth before he knew it, and for a second Ignis wondered if he had actually said them out loud.

A hand came to rest on Ignis’s shoulder— _his_ hand—and all the numbness he had become accustomed to slid away, replaced by an all-consuming heat that shot across his skin like wildfire.

“Not like I wanted to. We’ve got some catching up to do,” Noctis murmured, his voice in Ignis’s ears was sweeter than any song.

“Let’s go inside,” Ignis said, and he was impressed that he never wavered, even as he felt his insides liquifying.

As the four turned towards Takka’s Diner, they fell into stride, an action as natural as breathing—ten years of darkness paling in comparison to the brightness of the moment. 

* * *

Their ride to Insomnia’s outskirts was largely spent in stunned silence. It was still hard to believe that Noctis was back, and even harder to accept the news that he had laid on all of them—according to the gods, _to save Eos from the Starscourge that plagues it, I must sacrifice my life. There is no other way._

Ignis attempted to act surprised, but he had already suffered quietly with the knowledge for the entire time Noctis had been gone. Now, all he wanted was to treasure what little time they had left. Prompto had tried to muffle his sobs for the duration of their trip, and the rest of them hadn’t brought any attention to them.

Now, they were at camp, situated on the hill outside the city, preparing for one final battle. A rush of memories that Ignis had repressed now came roaring back, leaving his mind rattled and his spirit fragile.

Their souls would all be laid bare that night.

“The four of us around a campfire. How long has it been?” Noctis was the first to speak, which was fitting. He had always been the planet, and they, the stars caught in his gravity.

“An eternity,” Ignis said so quietly that it might as well have been a whisper. The lack of response from Gladio and Prompto told him they were all in agreement.

“So, yeah,” Noctis started out, sounding very much like the small boy Ignis remembered from his childhood. Unsure and afraid, in need of reassurance that someone would catch him if he fell. “I, um…”

“Out with it,” Gladio growled, words clipped. He had been crying too, though he was better at hiding it. 

“I just…” Ignis could imagine Noctis’s signature shrug, maybe his hands thrown up in dismay. His throat tightened. “Damnit. Why the hell is this so hard?” It was the same question Ignis had asked himself nearly every day since Noctis had been gone, and although he now had his answer, they were past the point of no return.

Noctis was destined to save the world. Ignis was meant to support him—not to have his unrequited love reciprocated.

“So…I.” There was a ragged inhalation of breath. “I’ve made my peace. Still, knowing this is it—and seeing you here now. It’s…more than I can take.”

Ignis couldn’t breathe—he couldn’t move. If he did, he knew what was left of him would bend and break, no longer strong enough to resist the grip that Noctis still had on his heart. He thought that the time of darkness had prepared him, but all it had done was created a bigger scab over a wound that was now torn open, and he was bleeding out.

 _I love you_.

“Yeah, you’re damn right it is,” Prompto gasped. _They love him, too_ , Ignis acknowledged. The thought did little to comfort him.

“Huh, you spit it out,” Gladio sounded pleased in his own way.

_Say something. These are your last days together—don’t let it go to waste._

“It’s good to hear,” Ignis said. He hoped that Noctis knew what he really meant.

_We will support you through this pain._

_I will stand by your side, just as I always have._

_I won’t let you fall._

_I will have your back—always. Unto death._

“Well…what can I say?” Noctis’s voice had gone tight. He was barely holding it together. “You guys—are the best.”

Prompto was sniffling again, and even Ignis could no longer hold back the tears. Leaning his head back, he listened with his entire body, eyes sliding shut in acceptance of what was to come.

_I am merely the moon, meant to reflect the sun’s light._

— **23** —

Ignis listened to the sound of the rain falling, a steady droning in his ears. It was cold against his face, intermingling with the tears that he knew no one would be able to see behind his visor, let alone in the dark.

“So, this is farewell.”

The finality of it hadn’t yet hit him, but little by little, the numbness was returning to Ignis’s body, as if he were being turned into stone. It had started at their last campfire, a confession he would never make being the first part of him to feel its effects. He imagined it was his body’s natural defense mechanism against what it knew was about to happen.

“Yeah. Here we are.” Noctis spoke plainly, emotion muted. The prince—no, king—had left everything in the ashes on the hill outside of Insomnia and accepted the unfair hand that had been dealt him. Now, there was no dissuading him from accepting his fate.

It hardly seemed fair.

“It’s all you,” Gladio declared. That was a lie, but a comforting one nonetheless. It was every single one of them, but only one was meant to walk through death’s doors.

_If only I could follow._

“No turning back now.” Prompto—sweet Prompto—was already crying again.

When Noctis spoke each of their names in turn, Ignis being the last, it was if the words took up all the remaining space in Ignis's world. He had nearly forgotten what it felt like, as only Noctis seemed to have that particular effect on him.

It hurt, and it healed, but it was too little, too late.

“Walk tall, my friends.”

Ignis had always been the most composed of them all. He had given speeches in front of kings, greeted politicians more than three times his age with grace and dignity, proposed new legislation in council meetings before he had even come of age, but now none of that mattered. He didn't know what to say. Nothing seemed good enough. Nothing could summarize what he was feeling. 

“Godspeed, and take care.” Ignis bowed, speaking the one word he had waited his entire life to say. “Majesty.”

He could hear it in the silence—the thrumming of his own heart, broken, yet somehow still beating.

“The time has come.”

Then, he was gone.

 _Walk tall, my friends_.

Noctis’s words, spoken like a true king, would forever ring in Ignis’s mind. Their journey—Ignis’s journey—had finally reached its climactic end.

A life’s destiny fulfilled.

_Father, I did as you asked. I think you would be proud._

They fought their way to safety after that final battle, the last remaining daemons a welcome distraction from the war raging in each of their hearts. At times, Ignis had wondered if they would survive the night and experience the dawning of a new era—but he hardly cared if he did or not, not anymore.

No one told you how to go on after your reason for living was gone.

_Father, what do I do?_

Ignis prayed—to the kings of the past, to the Astrals, to anyone who might be listening—for guidance.

There was no answer. 

— **24** —

“It’s still a little dark—blue and purple at the top—like, oh! You know, that shirt you used to wear all the time with the coeurl print,” Prompto murmured. There was a creak as he shifted in his camping chair, and the crackle of fire as the embers fell in-between two crumbling logs. “The blue—it’s like the Vesperpool at night, that _deep_ blue, almost black. And there are _stars_ , Iggy. Lots of little diamonds.”

Ignis leaned his head back and inhaled the scent of smoke.

“What else?” 

“The sun’s peeking over the mountains,” Gladio said. His bass voice vibrated through Ignis’s chest, soothing the hurt that remained. “It’s golden yellow, like Prompto’s hair—or chocobo feathers.” There was a chuckle. “You remember when Noct had us race around the Alstor Slough and the chocobos got spooked by the catoblepas?”

Prompto groaned. “Yeah, they bucked us into the water and Iggy spent all night getting the mud out of our clothes,” he lamented. Ignis couldn’t help but smile. He had shooed them off into the river to bathe, and they had come back shivering in only their underwear to huddle around the campfire.

“Above the gold is this _awesome_ orange. Like—man, I wish I had my camera.” Prompto paused. “It’s sorta like Cindy’s truck, that one she has parked at Hammerhead. Man, I wonder if they’re watching this right now. I miss hanging out at Takka’s diner. His fries were the best.”

“It’s because of all the grease,” Gladio joked, and there was a subdued laugh from Prompto.

“We should go there next,” Ignis said, and it was quiet for a while, the only sound the kindling popping and snapping as it burned.

Gladio cleared his throat. “It’s getting redder now.” Ignis could _feel_ the sun on his face, and a sweet nostalgia flooded his chest, old memories stepping to the forefront of his mind. “Reminds me of the engines on the Imperial airships.” There was a collective moan. “Gods, I’m glad we won’t see those again any time soon. We’ve fought more than our fair share of MTs.” Ignis heard Prompto make a noncommittal noise.

“Don’t hold your breath. We have no idea what the dawn will bring,” Ignis tsked. Just because the Empire had been dormant during the Long Night, it didn’t mean it was gone for good.

There was a dreadful silence as they considered the possibility of Niflheim’s resurgence.

“We’ll make sure Lucis stays safe,” Prompto said adamantly. “We’ve fought too hard to stop now,” he added. Ignis noted the bitterness in his tone.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right.”

“There’s some cool green at the edges. Oh! The same shade as a malboro, don’t you think? Ugh, remember that awful one we all fought together in Fodina Mine?”

“How could we forget?” Gladio said. “That was right after Ignis went blind.”

“I remember you all fought like children,” Ignis stated matter-of-factly. He imagined Gladio and Prompto exchanging guilty looks. “Our journey could have ended there, and it almost did.”

“But you brought us together,” Prompto said firmly, followed by a noise of agreement from Gladio.

There was a short break in the conversation.

“It looks more like tonberry green to me,” Gladio hummed.

“…huh. Minus the silver from their little knives.”

They all chortled, remembering the many daemons they fought, and conversation lulled again.

“Just above the warm colors and below the dark there’s a pale band that’s getting lighter,” Gladio went on. “It’s like…” he stopped, searching for an adequate comparison.

“Like Noct’s eyes,” Prompto whispered.

Ignis felt his throat closing. _That_ was a vivid image he had never forgotten, even in over ten years without his sight. He hoped he'd never forget.

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed gently.

“I wish he could see this.” Ignis recognized the tremor in Prompto’s voice, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He could feel tears forming and tucked his chin to his chest, bowing his head. There was a chorus of sniffles, the mood plummeting.

“Maybe he can.” Gladio’s optimism went unanswered, the three men letting their minds wander. “We all loved him, you know. You could have told us.” The weakness in Gladio’s voice was at odds with the strength of his character, and it was something each of them felt keenly.

“Better late than never?” Prompto ventured, shooting for hopeful and falling short as a hiccup became a sob.

“My biggest regret and failure is never telling him, even as I knew he was heading to his death.” Ignis’s voice broke, but he was past the point of embarrassment. There was no one he was trying to impress—not anymore.

The silence returned, somber and stifling, occasionally peppered with the sound of subdued cries.

The shadows behind Ignis’s eyelids grew lighter as the sun rose. Eventually, they could hear birdsong in the distance, Eos coming alive after a decade-long slumber.

“He really did it,” Prompto breathed.

The corner of Ignis’s mouth curled into a half-smile. For Noctis, he resolved to at least try to go on. If he didn’t, his sacrifice would have been made in vain.

“Indeed, we all did.”

Ignis almost didn’t register the soft crunch of grass behind him. After all, they hadn’t been expecting anyone. Outside of the Kingsglaive stationed in Insomnia, the majority of Lucians still remained in Lestallum or Hammerhead, so when the footfalls became clearer, Ignis perked up in alarm.

Acting on pure instinct, he jumped to his feet, finding the daggers at his side. He held them aloft in the direction of the noise, straining for Gladio and Prompto’s reactions.

Nothing.

“Prompto—Gladio—what is it?”

Still, nothing.

A bead of sweat trailed from the top of his temple to his chin, his blood running cold with fear.

Ignis couldn’t hear their breaths, and he assumed the unknown entity had somehow incapacitated them without his knowledge. He wasn’t sure why he was spared, but they hadn’t seen Noctis fulfill his destiny only to die by the first sunrise, so Ignis assumed a defensive stance and prepared to fight.

Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

“Stay back!” Ignis yelled, weapons at the ready. His muscles tensed as he listened.

The footsteps ceased and he tightened his grip on his weapons, unmoving.

“Ignis.”

The single word ripped through Ignis like a bullet, and he felt his blades slip through his fingers to clatter on the ground by his feet.

Everything suddenly seemed louder now, a distinct ringing in his ears. He heard quick intakes of breath on either side of him, a reassurance that Gladio and Prompto were very much alive after all, and just as shocked as he was.

“You’re…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “Is this a dream?”

_Did we die after all? There’s no way—the prophecy—_

When two familiar, _warm_ hands came to cradle Ignis’s face, he nearly fell to his knees. His quivering fingers rose like they were pushing through water, and he ran them over the backs of familiar knuckles, feeling the distinct weight of a ring—a ring he knew the engraving on like he knew his own skin. Following the curve of their wrists, Ignis brought his touch to their shoulders and up to their face, remembering every angle of the man’s jaw despite its stubble.

“Is it...really you?” Ignis dared to hope, the warmth inside him now rivaling the sun’s rays.

“See for yourself,” came the familiar voice. Ignis’s brows furrowed, perplexed.

A moment later, a strange flash of azure colored the shadows beneath his eyelids. Blinking in rapid succession, Ignis's vision came into focus for the first time in years, falling on the face of the One True King.

Hair as dark as night, eyes as light as dawn.

Ignis was too surprised to gasp, head turning in a slow revolution as he took in the scenery. Gladio and Prompto were sideways in their camping chairs, staring at the two of them in wonder, mouths hanging open. Ignis squinted as his head lifted to the sky, taking in the sun and the rainbow of colors that his friends had described.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to Noctis, a million feelings and thoughts rendering him speechless. He wasn’t sure how or why, but at that moment, all his questions were pushed aside. They could wait.

“It’s beautiful,” Ignis exhaled softly.

Noctis’s eyes reflected the light behind them, never leaving Ignis’s face.

“It is,” Noctis agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> View Nikki’s Twitter post [HERE](https://twitter.com/xarilin_mtc/status/1214972972290781186?s=21) and give her a follow! Retweets always appreciated.


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